I thought the most beautiful thing in the world must be shadow, the million moving shapes and cul-de-sacs of shadow. There was shadow in bureau drawers and closets and suitcases, and shadow under houses and trees and stones, and shadow at the back of people’s eyes and smiles, and shadow, miles and miles and miles of it, on the night side of the earth.
Sylvia Plath, The Bell Jar
The eye is always caught by light, but shadows have more to say.
Let us begin by saying that Shadow had died. Did Shadow know that Shadow had died? Undoubtedly. Shadow and she were associates for years. Shadow was her only executrix, her only friend and the only one who dressed in mourning for Shadow. Shadow was not so terribly bereaved by the sad event and the day of the burial she celebrated it with a banquet.
Shadow didn’t erase the name of Shadow. The firm was known under the trade name “Shadow and Shadow.” Sometimes the new clients called Shadow Shadow; but Shadow answered to both names, as if she, Shadow, were in effect Shadow, who had died.